Misery
by Tarica
Summary: Why did House really stick the knife in the socket? Speculation on how House's past influenced his decision and why he feels he is destined to live a life of pain. Rating upped for swearing and child abuse.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first House story. I don't own it! Please R&R!

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Somehow, Dr. James Wilson wasn't at all surprised to find one Dr. Gregory House filling in a stack of forms. He hadn't thought that he'd be able to keep his delinquent friend confined to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital for long. Not with his patient and Car Accident Guy both dead. Still, it was a bit reckless on House's part.

"I take it you're leaving AMA?" Wilson asked, prepared for the inevitable argument that was sure to come.

"Yup." Said House, carefully searching out the places on the form where his signature was required to convince the hospital board that if he keeled over dead after leaving, he wouldn't sue.

"House, you stuck a knife in a light socket! You shouldn't be leaving!" Wilson reasoned.

"And yet, that is what I appear to be doing." House said, signing off on the last line.

"You haven't had a psych evaluation yet." Wilson futilely reminded him. "You don't think that's important, despite the fact that you nearly killed yourself?"

"Well, seeing as I took various steps to make sure that I would survive, I don't think it can referred to as a suicide attempt." House replied, his usual logic appearing to be completely intact after the whole incident.

While it was a fair point, Wilson was in no way willing to admit it. "So even though you electrocuted yourself, you feel there's absolutely nothing wrong with your life?"

"Glad we cleared that up." House snarked, grimacing as he rose to his feet and picked up his cane. Wilson watched in silence as the older doctor handed off the the stack of medical forms to a nurse and started down the hall. Cursing the fact that he just had to care, he immediately began to follow his friend down the hall.

"You know, when I said there was nothing wrong, I meant there would be nothing wrong once you stopped bugging me." House said over his shoulder as soon as he heard Wilson's footsteps behind him. He turned and stopped. He smirked as the younger man narrowly avoided a collision. "You know why I did it."

Wilson knew only too well why he had done it. Curiosity. What lay beyond was just another part of the Rubik's Cube to his friend. What he didn't know was what made House so miserable that he absolutely needed the answer to know the answer to the puzzle.

"Why can't you just be happy?" Wilson asked across the hallway at his oldest friend. "Why can't you just live your life instead of making yourself miserable?"

House just stared at the younger doctor, blue eyes wide, reminding Wilson vaguely of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, that is until House blinked. And suddenly, there were no walls, no anger, and for the first time in years, Wilson felt that he was truly seeing into Houses soul. For a moment, they looked into each other's gazes, time frozen, until House abruptly looked away.

"You know why." House stated quietly, almost too quietly for Wilson to catch, as he turned and limped towards the elevators. Wilson sighed as he watched his friend limp away, wishing that were true.

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House glared daggers at the elevator wall, barely resisting the temptation to throw a punch at it, just so that he could create a new pain to distract him from his other pains, just for a little while. Damn Wilson. Despite what the other man thought, he didn't care only about himself, he didn't set out every morning with the sole ambition of making himself absolutely miserable. The guy had known him for years, if he hadn't figured out that there was a method to his madness by now, he was a total idiot.

Repressing a sigh, House carefully adjusted his face to display his "I'm pissed off and my leg is killing me" expression as the elevator doors opened into the Princeton Plainsboro lobby. Adjusting his cane in his grip, he set off across the foyer, hoping that he could make it out the doors and to his bike without being accosted by Cuddy. He was not in the mood to deal with people, nor was he in the mood to argue with the dragon about his sanity.

Making a beeline for the doors, he was almost home free when he heard the dreaded voice calling his name. For a split second, he considered feigning deafness, but instead decided to seize the chance to pawn off some of his anger, courtesy of Wilson, on some poor unsuspecting soul. He did consider the fact that Cuddy didn't actually deserve it, at least, not yet, but he decided that he could always make it up to her by working a few extra hours in the clinic without complaint. He found it almost amusing that he was pissed enough to work in the clinic just to make it up to people. He heard her call again.

"House!" Cuddy yelled a second time, fully expecting that she would have to follow him out to his motorcycle to talk to him. She was shocked when he stopped abruptly and turned to face her.

"What?" House asked, his voice low and menacing. She was used to him grouching and arguing with her, but this was different. House sounded angry. In all the time she had known him, she had only heard him to be truly angry on one other occasion. She had known the reasoning behind his anger on that occasion, and as much as she disliked it, his emotions at the time had been acceptable in the situation. This time though, Cuddy was in the dark, and it scared her.

House quietly watched Cuddy close the distance between them, surveying her with a certain amount of disdain. He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as she leaned in close.

"What the hell is your problem?" She asked, her voice low and carefully controlled, a failed attempt to keep it devoid of emotion.

"What do you think?" House sneered in reply. It sounded almost challenge like, exactly how he meant it.

Cuddy stared at him for a moment. "Did you do your psyche eval yet?"

"No." came the reply, a certain air of pride to the one word answer.

"So where the hell do you think you're going?"Cuddy asked in disbelief. A little voice in her head questioned why she was surprised, but she chose to ignore it.

"Home." House told her. "I'm going home for the weekend."

"You signed out AMA?"

"If this surprises you, you're much stupider than I originally thought." House mocked. Cuddy scowled in response.

"I know why I did what I did." House continued. "I don't need some idiot psychologist telling me what I already know."

"House, you can't always—" Cuddy began to argue, when House suddenly snapped.

"Will you just leave me alone?" the older doctor yelled, looking into her eyes, capturing her gaze. What she saw there, she had only seen once, when the normally resilient man in front of her had practically begged her for a shot of morphine. House was in pain, and getting away, being alone for a few days was how he had chosen to handle it this time. She supposed so long as he didn't do anything stupid, it was better than him tracking her down to beg for stronger painkillers.

"Will you be careful?" she asked, and almost smiled when he cocked his head to one side. His voice was almost at its normal level of sarcasm as he replied.

"Yes Mommy."

Cuddy sighed, and then nodded. Ashe would give him the time. "You have until Monday. Don't do anything stupid."

House just waved a hand in reply as she watched his retreating back exit through the sliding doors.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I'll be wanting more to see if this is worth continuing with. Let me know, because this isn't one of my favorite chapters, but I feel it's necessary to get into the good stuff.  
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**I don't own House. Wish I did though, just so I could meet Hugh Laurie. **

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House sighed as he disinterestedly flipped through all 800 channels provided by his satellite company. There was absolutely nothing worth watching on. Just reruns and crap. Nothing to get his mind off the past few days. Sighing again, he shut off the TV and rose to his feet with a wince, not bothering to pick up his cane. He slowly limped into the kitchen and began searching his cupboards, eventually locating a bottle of whiskey. Finding a glass in the next cupboard over, he picked up both prizes and carefully began the trek back out to the sofa. 

Sitting back down, he carefully adjusted his right leg, laying back on the couch, and then reached over to the bottle of Tyrconnell that was now sitting on the coffee table. Oddly enough for him, it was an unopened bottle. He generally didn't have bottles of whiskey that sat unopened in his cupboards for untold lengths of time. Shrugging at the mystery, he broke the seal and filled the glass on the table.

He set the bottle down and instead picked up the glass. He lifted to eye level, staring quietly at the topaz liquid, which barely shifted in the glass as he slowly moved it from one height to another. It was a tool, an aid to keep him from thinking. He didn't want to think at that particular moment. He couldn't help it.

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"Did you see House before he left?" Cuddy asked Wilson, just managing to catch the head of oncology before he left Princeton Plainsboro. Wilson halted, turning to stare at his boss.

"Yeah, why?" He knew that House had been a bit upset with him, he would have to be blind to have missed that, but he hadn't seen anything that suggested House was going to go home and self-destruct.

"I caught him on his way out." Cuddy said. She hesitated. "He was angry. I haven't heard d him like that since the infarction." She paused again. Wilson could tell she was worried; House had a bad habit of doing that to people. "Do you think he's going to be alright for the weekend?"

"I'm sure he'll be fine." Wilson said, not really sure whether he was trying to comfort Cuddy or himself. She gave him a skeptical look.

"Would you trust him not to do something stupid just because he said he wouldn't?" She asked.

Wilson winced. That was a low blow, and she already knew the answer. "Not after yesterday, no, not particularly."

"Mm hmm." Was all he got in response. He sighed.

"I'll check up on him." He finally offered, knowing that if someone didn't, his old friend was probably going to spend the weekend alone, drunk, and drugged if someone didn't look in. He tried to ignore the fact that he was worried, too.

"Thank you." Said Cuddy, returning to her office, leaving him free to continue on his way.

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House started at the sound of someone knocking on the door to his apartment, nearly sloshing the glass of whiskey all over his chest. Sending a dirty look at the door he sighed and replaced the glass on the coffee table, then shifted to rest his arms behind his head. The only person crazy enough to show up at his apartment without invitation was Wilson. He had no intention of opening the door. What was the point of getting up when Wilson had his own key?

Out on the stoop, Wilson once again knocked on the door to the apartment. The lights were on, so he could see that House was home, even though the blinds were drawn. "House, I know you're in there! Open up!"

Inside, House just smirked to himself; he was not getting up off his couch.

Knocking a third time, Wilson flipped through his key chain with his spare hand, coming up with the spare key to the apartment after a few seconds. "House, I'm coming in!" he yelled through the door, bracing himself for the worst as he turned the lock and pushed the door open, half expecting to see the diagnostician passed out in the hall.

"Took you long enough." Came House's voice from the living room. Wilson shut the door and quickly followed it to find the older man lying on the couch, a bottle of whiskey on the table next to him. His first thought was that House was half way to drinking himself into the ground.

"How much have you had?" Wilson asked, somehow managing to keep the worry out of his voice.

House glanced at the bottle and filled glass on the table and then back up at Wilson. "None."

"None."

"None." House confirmed. He sounded as surprised about it as Wilson.

"Who are you and what have you done with House?" Wilson asked. House smirked. "Seriously, that's not like you."

House shrugged. "I poured it, and then…" his voice trailed off into silence as he once again became lost in thought, staring once again into the topaz liquid.

"House, why did you do it?" Wilson asked. For a minute, House didn't answer, continuing to stare at the untouched glass.

"You know why." He finally sighed, returning his gaze to Wilson. The younger doctor barely resisted rolling his eyes.

"No House, I don't." He finally said. "Do you really expect me to believe-"

"Yes." House said quietly, cutting off his friend. "It's the truth."

"I don't get it. Why is it so important?" Wilson asked. He had never seen anyone so determined to figure out the beyond, just so that he could prove others wrong.

House just laid in silence for a while. Wilson allowed it, seeing that his friend was waging some strange internal battle with himself. It was obvious that whether Wilson interrupted him or not would decide if he learned anything about what was bothering his friend. It was odd, he had to admit, he had never seen his friend in such a thoughtful mood while sober without being high.

After close to ten minutes of sitting in absolute silence and stillness, Wilson was about to get up and leave House to himself, when the other man spoke.

"I'm always in pain."

Wilson frowned at this. It was obvious that House wasn't talking about his leg. If he were, he would have spoken up ten minutes ago. "What do you mean?" he prompted, looking for clarification.

House didn't respond to his query. Instead, he continued with his new, introspective line of thought. "I needed to know."

"Know what?"

The look House gave him was scathing, the meaning obvious. _Rush this, you learn absolutely nothing._

After another few minutes of silence, House spoke again. "I needed a reason. I needed to know that there's some reason for my pain."

"When have you been in pain?" Wilson asked cautiously. House just sighed and once again picked up the glass of whiskey, tilting the glass a bit to watch the liquid slosh back and forth.

"House?" His friend looked from the glass to Wilson, staring into his eyes. He shifted nervously on the couch, frowning. Finally, he set the glass down, and began to speak.

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**So, there's chapter 2! I plan on getting into House's past in the next few chapters, including flashbacks, so be sure you let me know that you want me to keep writing! Reviews make me happy, whether they're good or bad!  
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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is officially the longest chapter I have ever written. It just wouldn't end. This one and the next few will all take place in House's past, and give details on things that we've noticed in the show. If you don't recognize a character, they're probably original, and I don't own the rest, but I wish I did. Please read and review! I need something to cheer me up since I'm probably going to fail a physics test tomorrow.**

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Julia Sloan frowned as she watched the young boy sit alone under the playground elm tree, reading to himself. It was sad that the boy had no friends, and he didn't seem to want any. It wasn't that unusual for children that had recently moved to a new school to be left alone or teased by the other children, but young Gregory House's isolation was self-imposed. What made that particularly strange was that the boy seemed to be consciously pushing away the other children, who were intrigued by the existence of a new kid that had a complete lack of overwhelming need to join them or be accepted by them.

Julia sighed and turned her attention to the group of children playing nearest the elm tree and Greg. It was a small group of four boys, bouncing a rubber dodge ball between them. The four in the group were known for causing trouble, and she could see that once again, they were plotting something. The secretive looks they kept shooting in Greg's direction every few seconds were a dead giveaway. Sure enough, after a few moments, the group made the move she had been waiting for, the gang leader Ricky Blane discreetly throwing the ball at Greg House.

Greg flinched as the red dodge ball soared over the top of his book, narrowly missing his head. He couldn't say he was surprised by the event, it had happened at his last two schools too. Repressing a sigh, he shut his book and set it on the ground next to him while he began to scan the rest of the playground for the culprits behind the attack. He didn't have to look far, his eyes and ears quickly drawn to the group of laughing boys standing nearest the elm. He scowled in their direction and clambered to his feet, before crossing his arms and walking slowly towards the delinquent group.

"Is there a problem?" Greg asked Ricky, his voice carefully polite. The other boy smirked, his three friends standing behind him.

"You know, reading is for losers. Only geeks read anything." Ricky finally said, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. Greg simply raised an eyebrow at him.

"Is that so? Maybe that's true around here." Greg speculated. All his former politeness was quickly vanishing from his voice. "You see, where I come from, people who don't read are classified as ignorant idiots."

Ricky and the others frowned, not having a comeback ready for use against Greg. It was slightly disorienting to be challenged, and by a new geek, nonetheless. He didn't seem to be at all afraid of them, an unusual quality in anyone under the age of 13. Ricky decided to Bully the other boy into line. "Look House-"

He hesitated a second too long, taken aback by Greg's defiance. The other boy cut him off, plunging onward with his insults.

"Of course, it could be that people here can't read." Greg suggested. He paused a moment to flash Ricky a rather nasty grin. "Which would make you just plain stupid by my standards."

That did it. Ricky lost his temper and lunged forward at Greg, throwing a punch at the new boy's face. The speed with which Greg ducked the blow told Julia that the boy had known exactly what he was doing and which buttons to push. It was slightly shocking that a ten year old was possessed with the ability target others emotions and use them to manipulate them. Snapping out her daze, she ran forward, breaking up the fight before Ricky's posse our any other students could become involved. Putting on her disappointed face, she stood between the fighting children.

"Mr. Blane, how many times have you been told not to fight?" She asked. Ricky had the good grace to at least look slightly ashamed. "You will receive an hour long after school attention." She told him. "Be in my office at 3:00."

Ricky nodded, wincing. "Go play." Julia ordered. The boy nodded and quickly took off with his friends. Julia sighed and turned to face Gregory House, who stood at attention, waiting for his own punishment to be assigned. "Mr. House, because this is your first week here and this is your first fight, you will only be receiving an in-school detention."

"Yes ma'm." Greg's face showed no emotion at the announcement she had given, which Julia found interesting.

"You will report to my office at the start of the lunch hour." Julia continued. "Your parents will also be informed."

She frowned as for the first time since she had broken up the fight Greg's face showed any type of feeling. Shock quickly crossed over his young face before being replaced by his mask, as well as a small flicker of something in his blue eyes- fear, perhaps? She wondered whether he was afraid because he had never fought before, or because he was here because he had been fighting too often at his old school. She made a plan to find out during his detention.

"You're dismissed." Julia said, and Greg nodded.

"Yes ma'm." He said quietly, before turning and walking back to the elm to pick up his book. Greg House was definitely a mystery, one she intended to crack.

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Greg took a deep breath and swallowed before reaching out with his fist to knock on Ms. Sloan's office door. He liked his new teacher, she seemed nice, but he could tell just from his punishment that she knew nothing about him or his past. That was always a bad sign, it meant that he would probably be stuck writing lines while she tried to get him to tell her about himself. It always happened, adults trying to pry into his business, doing what they thought was best… it always ended in trouble. It always ended in pain.

Sure enough, Greg was only ten lines into his hour-long punishment of writing "I will not provoke others to fight" when Julia's first question came. Adults were so predictable.

"Mr. House, why don't you want to make any friends?"

Okay, so that wasn't their typical first question, but it was normally in the first three. He decided to go with at least a bit of the truth in his answer.

"I don't see the point." He told her, not moving his eyes from the blackboard, slowly filling with his handwriting. "There's no reason to pretend to be someone's friend if you're never going to speak to them again once you leave."

Julia frowned. Greg's statement seemed far too old, too wise for a ten year old. "What do you mean?" she asked, intrigued.

"Everybody lies." Greg declared. He glanced around in time to see Julia looking at him with a mixture of shock and confusion.

"My dad's a marine. I move at least once a year." He elaborated. "No 'friend' I've ever had has stayed in contact when my dad got transferred to a new base, despite whatever promises they've made. No one here would willingly do so either."

Julia could hear the quotes around the word "friend". Moving around because his dad was a marine explained a lot. "Did you normally get into fights at your old schools?" She asked.

"No." Greg replied. "Just during the first couple of weeks." Until the other kids realized he was a better fighter than any of them. He had to be. He sighed and returned to writing his lines, over and over. After a few minutes of silence, he heard Ms. Sloan speak again.

"I called your parents before you arrived."

Greg felt his shoulders tense up involuntarily and visibly forced himself to relax. He knew that if he behaved like the thought of his parents being called scared him, Sloan would see. She continued with a monologue.

"I spoke with your mother. She said I would probably catch you fighting a few times over the next week, and it would stop abruptly within two."

Greg shrugged, switching the chalk to his left hand before his right started to cramp. "I told you it always happens my first few weeks at a new school."

"So everybody lies but you?" Sloan asked.

"Yup."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Greg froze when he spotted his father's car in the driveway. Not good. He had completely forgotten it was the old man's day off, or he never would have provoked Ricky into throwing the punch. Normally his mom kept any fights that left Greg unmarked from his father, but since he was home today, there was no way for her to hide it. He was in trouble.

Sure enough, the yelling started as soon as he walked inside. "Gregory House!" came his father's bark from the den. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he threw down his bag next to the kitchen table and made his way to the other room, where he stood at attention while he waited for his dressing down.

His father's voice was cold and dangerous. "What have I told you about fighting?"

"Not to, sir." Greg responded, kicking himself mentally when his voice shook. At least he wasn't visibly shaking and his face was a mask.

"If I told you not to fight, why did your teacher call your mother to tell her that you were receiving an in-school detention for fighting with another boy?"

Greg repressed a sigh. There would be no point in trying to explain that he had been provoked into provoking Ricky. "I'm sorry sir."

"Really." His father clearly didn't believe the sentiment. "Then what is this I hear about this being a regular reoccurrence at each new school?"

Greg visibly flinched at the blow. He swallowed again, not even bothering to defend himself, despite the fact that the in majority of those fights, he had and only been using self-defense. It happened at every new school. When the bullies realized he was smarter than any of them, they always attacked. It was like a law of nature. Beat up the new genius kid at recess. To them it was practically a game.

John House glared down at his son. "You'll be spending the night in the yard." He ordered. "No supper."

Greg did nothing more than wince in response.

"Dismissed."

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Greg shivered as he sat under the oak tree in the backyard staring angrily up at the moon. He was cold and hungry, never a good combination, and he was angry with his father. He hated the man. There was no other word for what he felt.

Greg hated that his dad was a marine. He hated that every time he was reassigned, the entire family had to move. He hated that he had never lived in one place for more than a year. He hated that his moves had lost him every friend he had ever had. He hated that he didn't even know how to make a new one. He hated that he couldn't make one, not without everything ending in pain.

Greg hated the flawed logic that drove his father's punishments. He couldn't fight unless he wanted to sleep outside. He couldn't stand there and get beaten unless he wanted to spend hours in an ice bath. He had to keep his room spotless at all times if he wanted to sleep there. If it wasn't, he was spanked and wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway.

Greg blinked back tears as he stared up at the sky through a crack in the tree branches. The moon and stars were too bright, looking down on him mockingly. He shivered again. How cold was it supposed to get tonight anyway? Probably cold enough for it to be hazardous to his health. Sighing, he pulled his arms out of his sweater sleeves and clamped them across his stomach to get warmer. He curled into a fetal position and glanced up at the sky again, just in time to meteor burn up. Throwing his will to hope, he made a wish that someday he could just get away from his father. That he wouldn't have to be in pain.

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Julia frowned as she watched Gregory House in class the next day. The normally bright, quick boy was inattentive and lethargic, and the dark rings under his eyes told her that he hadn't slept well last night, if at all. In the five days he had been a part of her class, she hadn't never seen him look like this. He was pale, weary, and completely dead to the outside world, despite the fact that he was clearly awake.

The bell rang, and Julia dismissed the class to recess. Greg was the last student to his feet, trailing the rest of the class towards the door. When most of the students had filed out, she called out to him.

"Mr. House, if you could wait a moment?"

Greg stopped and turned to blink at her. His eyes carefully followed her as she walked to the door and shut it after the last student left.

She sighed. "Greg, are you all right?"

Greg stiffened. "I'm fine." He declared.

"No you aren't." Julia countered. "To use a metaphor, all morning the lights have been on but no one's been home."

"Yeah, well…" he trailed off into silence. Julia leaned against her desk, observing the young boy for a moment. He looked pale and shaky…ill. She carefully reached out a hand and placed the back against his forehead, not at all surprised to feel a fever. She did find it odd though; yesterday he had been perfectly healthy. She studied him for a few more minutes, and suddenly it hit her like a ton of bricks. He had been afraid when he was told she would be calling his parents.

"Greg, did your parents punish you for fighting yesterday?"

Greg jumped at this leap of logic. "No." He answered honestly. Well, his parents hadn't at any rate.

Julie frowned. The look in Greg's eyes told her that someone had done something. She couldn't imagine that it was his mom, she hadn't sounded at all angry or worried when they spoke. Which left Greg's father.

"What did your dad do to you?"

Greg flinched, but denied the truth. "Nothing."

Julia just gave him a sad smile. "You're not a very good liar."

"It's none of your business." Greg retorted.

"Fair enough." Julia nodded. "But if you ever want to talk…"

Greg simply nodded and walked slowly towards the door. Julia sighed as she watched the boy turn the handle to leave. She was surprised to see him pause and turn to face her.

"He made me sleep outside." Greg confessed quietly, so quietly she barely heard it. She cocked her head to one side, saddened. He looked so defeated.

"Please don't tell." He pleaded, and was gone from the room.

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Julia was sad when John House's next transfer came through. She had become quite fond of Gregory House and was sad to see him go. The boy was brilliant, she couldn't deny that. It was a shame his father was a bastard.

Since the day that Greg had told her about his punishment, he had seemed all right, more at ease. He at least trusted her, something he guessed was honor previously bestowed only on his mother. She had promised to keep in touch with him through the post, reluctant to encourage his belief that everybody lies. It was sad that someone so young believed that.

The letters Greg sent never ceased to amuse her. He complained of the idiocy of his new teachers, talked of his struggle to stay out of trouble, and the "jerks" that were his new classmates.

Without a doubt though, his favorite letter was the one that was filled with absolute glee. It told her about how his father was being sent to Vietnam. The man's life would surely be in danger, and Greg was happy about it. He figured that even though his father probably would come back, for the time that he was gone he was free. Free from pain, free from fear, free to enjoy his life. She found it slightly disturbing that she could wish death on another, but if it meant that the boy could live without his past pain, she could live with it.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I finally managed to update! Sorry it took a while, I feel like I've made you all wait for a long time with (In Hugh Laurie's words) very little payoff. However, finals are in a week, and once I'm done with those I should be able to update more. The idea for this chapter came from Son of a Coma Guy. I'm pretty sure you can consider Josh and Takeda original characters, because while they were mentioned by House, he never even game them names, so I took the liberty. Extra Credit if you can figure out who I named Takeda after.

I don't own House, but I wish I did.Thanks for all previous reviews, keep them coming!

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Gregory House smiled as he rested on the short cliff ledge, halfway up the vertical rock face. He loved the days that he could manage to sneak off base with Josh and climb. On those days, he was free of the military and all its structure and rules. He felt in control when he was out, like his life was in his hands and his hands alone. It felt good compared to the what he normally felt.

Leaning back and relaxing against the rock behind him, Greg heaved a sigh and watched Josh struggle up on to the ledge to sit next to him. When he was sure that the other teen was safely and securely on the ledge he shut eyes and let a cool breeze lull him into a lethargic state for a while. It was only thirteen hundred right now, if you were to ask the military, and they didn't need to worry about sneaking back onto base until around fifteen hundred to avoid their fathers finding out that they'd been gone. That was all that could possibly ruin their day.

"We should do this more often." Josh suggested as he reclined back next to House. Greg smirked.

"Yeah, and get caught? My old man beats up on me enough, thank you very much." He shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable on rock ledge.

"Man, I don't see why you don't tell someone." Josh mused. "I mean, when I was a kid my dad would give me a few smacks on the ass if I fucked up, but I deserved it. He didn't go for overkill."

"How do you know I don't deserve it?" Greg asked, looking anywhere but at his friend, trying to throw him for a loop.

"How do I know, other than the fact that you are the Mr. Perfect, in the flesh?" In truth, Josh had no idea. It was more intuition than anything. Greg had never told him any of the details behind his beatings. As it was, he only knew about them because of a previous off-base escapade. They had been swimming, and when Greg had taken his shirt off, it had been to reveal a bruised and battered chest and back. Josh remembered being shocked at the sight, but Greg hadn't seemed even slightly disturbed by the discolorations. Apparently, he had taken a couple of Tylenol before they snuck off base and completely forgotten about the painful splashes of color decorating his torso. When Josh had worked up the nerves to ask his friend about it, Greg had merely remarked "I had it coming." Josh found that hard to believe, because outside of their excursions, Greg was the embodiment of discipline and perfection; a 4.0 student with places on the varsity lacrosse and track teams.

Greg smiled to himself, knowing that his question had done its job and left Josh deep in thought. "it's enough that you know." He finally said, bringing Josh back to reality, hoping to end the conversation. Josh had other ideas.

"Man, there's a huge difference between getting a few smacks on the ass because you've fucked up and being used as a punching bag because your dad is pissed off."

"No shit." Greg replied. "Can we just not talk about it?"

Josh sighed, but he finally relented. He cast his mind about for a new conversation topic, finally landing on one he thought Greg might enjoy. "So did you see that new girl in class yesterday? Dad just got re-assed from the states?"

Greg smiled; this was the type of conversation he preferred. He had seen the girl in question: tall, blonde, killer body. "Hot." He declared. "Absolutely stunning."

"How did I know you would say that?" Josh wondered as they fell into a discussion rating the relative hotness of each girl in their class.

Greg relaxed, much more at ease. This was what their little escapades were supposed to be like.

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It happened when they were climbing back down the cliff face, on their way back to base. Greg knew as soon as he heard the strangled yell of pain that he was completely screwed. His father was going to kill him.

Greg hurried down the remaining patch of cliff face, jumping the last two and a half yards to land on his feet. He quickly jogged over to the spot where Josh was lying motionless after his fall. Despite a lack of any medical training, Greg could tell just by looking that his friend's leg was broken. Josh was conscious, but clearly in pain, biting his lip to keep from crying out. He felt a fleeting desire to run for it, sneak back onto base, and leave Josh to his own devices, but the sense of honor that his father had beaten into him wouldn't allow it. He knelt down and helped Josh to sit up.

"This is probably going to hurt." He said preparing to pull the other teen to his feet.

Josh just shook his head, gritting his teeth. "Already hurts." He put his arm over Greg's shoulder and allowed the other boy to pull him up, stifling another cry of pain as his body became vertical again. There was no way he could put weight on his left leg. Greg would be practically carrying him.

"Hospital or base?" Greg asked. The hospital was a bit closer, and if they went there first, he would at least have time to think up some protection against his father.

Josh's breathing was labored from the pain. He was silent for a minute before deciding. "Hospital." The people there would call the base in any case.

Greg nodded, and helped his friend slowly hobble towards relief.

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Josh had broken both his fibula and tibia when he fell. They were clean breaks, so the doctors weren't too worried. Greg was just relieved that they hadn't caused any irreparable damage.

As predicted, the MPs had been called, and he had been told by the hospital staff to wait for them to arrive. He expected that his and Josh's parents would be coming with them. It wasn't something that he looked forward to.

About half an hour after they had arrived, while Greg had been waiting for a diagnosis on Josh, something else had caught his attention. Something that would keep his mind off his fate.

It seemed that the Japanese doctors at this hospital had a patient. They also had no clue what was wrong with him. Apparently, the man would die soon if they didn't figure out what the problem was. He overheard one of the doctors dispatching another with some embarrassment to bring someone named Takeda.

Intrigued, and somewhat grateful to have something to concentrate on besides his impending doom, Greg continued to watch the doctors in charge struggle to find what was wrong with the dying man. A few minutes later, the man who had been dispatched returned with another. Greg was surprised, he recognized the man as a janitor he had seen while half carrying Josh into the hospital. He belatedly realized that the man must be both a doctor, and of a low caste, judging by the other doctors reactions to him. Greg figured Takeda must have been an expert in whatever was wrong.

He was watching the doctors wheel the dying man away under Takeda's orders when he heard his name. He turned to see two MPs standing across the waiting room. He swallowed and looked past them towards the doors. He could see his father approaching. He was so dead.

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Greg was absolutely terrified as he stood at attention in front of his father. He knew that he had every right to be, but at the same time he felt small and pathetic as he waited for his punishment. He only listened to his father's lecture with half his brain. The other half longed desperately for the days before his father had been sent to Vietnam for two years. In those days the worst punishments he had received had been ice baths or sleeping in the yard. Before his deployment, John House had never actually hit his son. Now painful beatings had become common place for every little mistake.

Greg offered no opposition when his father ordered him to drop his pants as he removed his belt. He knew from painful experience that defending himself would just make his belting worse, that it words had the potential to make this progress into a full-blown fist fight. That had happened once, he wouldn't let it happen again. Biting back a cry of pain, he flinched when he first felt the leather belt flay into his skin.

He lost track of how many times his father hit him, and was grateful when the beating was over. When his father ordered him to sleep out back without dinner, he immediately complied, just happy to be allowed out of the man's presence. It was sad, sleeping in the yard meant safety. He wasn't going to be picky though. At least it was a warm night. That made things better. He managed to snag a pen and paper on his way out the door.

That night, as he lay on his stomach on top of the picnic table, he wrote a letter by the light of the moon and stars. There was only one person that had any understanding, and somehow even though she was on the other side of the world, it felt like she was always there.

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Julia was saddened to find a new letter from Gregory House in her mailbox. It had been four years since the boy had been her student, and yet he still wrote to her. He had promised that he would keep writing to her, no matter what. She remembered what he had said about everyone lying but him. Oddly enough that had been the truth, he had yet to lie to her. As of late, his most recent letters had told of life in Japan, and the hell of his father being back from Vietnam. She wondered what House senior had done this time, and tore the envelope open.

As expected, Greg's letter told the tale of a fresh beating, but also of hope. Smiling, she took out a pen to reply to her former student, offering any help she could muster to see him follow his new ambition, to become a doctor.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I actually updated! It's a sign of the apocalypse, if you ask me. This is just a quick chapter. House should be starting at John Hopkins in the next couple of chapters, so this is a sort of lead in into those. I hadn't actually planned on writing this one, but I thought that it was necessary to bring up the tension level between House and his father. Thanks for all the reviews last chapter, they made my day! Please review some more, make me happy again.**

**I don't own House or it characters, which makes me want to cry. **

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Gregory House was ecstatic the day the letter arrived. It meant a chance to escape, to do what he wanted and live his own life. No longer would he have to live under the control of his father, with a constant fear of abuse. He wouldn't have to join the marines according to his father's wishes; the words in the letter gave Greg what he saw as a real future. Gregory House was going to college.

The acceptance letter from John Hopkins University came in late February. It promised a scholarship, a reward for his perfect 4.0 grade point average and his athleticism throughout high school. For Greg, that was only a bonus, it meant he wouldn't need to be dependent on his parents to receive a higher education. He could become a doctor without ever needing to deal with his father. It was some of the best news he had ever received.

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It was only several hours after receiving the John Hopkins letter that Greg realized a whole new set of problems. For one, there was the issue of informing his father that he had no intention of joining the marines, and instead planned to spend his life finding ways to save others, as opposed to devising new ways to kill them. There was no way that John House would approve. This of course led to his next problem: what was he going to do when he turned eighteen?

Greg knew that telling his father would inevitably result in a fight, most definitely including much yelling and quite possibly including fists. It would also mean that as soon as he was legally an adult, his father would boot him out of the house. It left Greg desperately trying to decide where he was going to live during the summer, and trying to figure out a plan to survive until the university started in the fall.

Feeling decidedly less cheerful about his acceptance to medical school, Greg took a seat at his desk and began writing a letter to Julia Sloan, knowing that she would at least be happy to hear from him. She had never been anything less than encouraging, not when he was ten, not when he was a freshman and had just decided to become a doctor. He could rely on her for a few suggestions at least.

After finishing his letter, Greg quickly dug out an envelope, sealed the paper inside, and then carefully hid it in his desk. He would mail it tomorrow. In the mean time, he needed to clear his head and relax, to stop thinking for a while. He abandoned his room and allowed his feet to carry him out to the family room, where his Mom's worn out upright piano stood. He took his seat on the bench, and felt his fingers drift over the keys, playing a song that existed only in his mind.

Greg closed his eyes as he listened to the melody his fingers created, amused that they were capable of such a feat. In truth, he had never been taught to play the piano, he didn't read music, he had simply taken a seat years before and begun to play. It had become an escape from his feelings, from his fear, and today was no exception. Sighing, Greg allowed himself to relax and let the notes flow from his soul.

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Upon arriving home from base, John House was surprised to hear music echoing from Blythe's old upright piano. It had been far too long since he had last heard her playing the old instrument; it was nice to hear her playing once again. He removed his boots and set them aside, followed by his jacket, and stuck his head around the corner into the family room to tell Blythe he was home. He was shocked to see that it was Greg that was seated in front of the piano, and before he knew it, he was moving towards his son.

Greg never saw the fist that connected with the side of his head; He only registered the pain of the blow and the shock of being relocated to the floor by the force of it. Shaking his head to stop it from spinning, he barely registered the socked foot coming his way in time to jump out of the way. One hand plastered to the lump he could feel forming on the side of his head, Greg clambered to his feet, an expression of anger, confusion, and pain clouding his features.

"What the hell?" Was all he could think to ask. He thought it summed up his feelings for the occasion nicely.

"No son of mine is going to be a pansy piano player." John House stated, drawing himself up to his full height. He took a step forward, only to see his son take a step back. "Who the hell taught you to play anyway?"

"No one." Greg replied, finally lowering his hand. "I taught myself."

"Oh, really." John replied snidely, clearly not believing the young man.

"Well, you know, I thought it would annoy you, so I figured why the hell not?"

The sarcastic comment came out of Greg's mouth before he realized he was thinking it, and a split second later, his father was flying at him, fists at the ready. He ducked the first blow, extra speed lent by the pain in his head, firsthand knowledge of how much it would hurt to be hit again. He wasn't fast enough to escape the second blow though, and doubled up at the searing pain in his ribs. Sucking up a breath, he twisted away from the bigger man and lashed out at his feet, trying to trip his father up. It didn't work, and John lunged for his son, throwing him onto the floor.

Greg gasped as his cracked against the polished wood floors of the family room, barely stifling a cry of pain. His dad's knee came down on his left wrist trapping it against the floor while the older man's left hand held his right to the floor above his head. This time he couldn't stop himself from crying out in pain as Johns right fist connected with his face.

It was only a second later that the sound of the door opening caused both Houses to freeze, one trying to kick the other off, the other in mid-swing. Blythe was home.

John immediately released his son, climbing to his feet.

"Don't tell your mother." He threatened, leaving the room to greet and distract his wife.

Greg pulled himself to his feet, breathing heavily. He ignored the sharp pain in his wrist, left over from an attempt to twist out from under his father. He was guessing he had sprained it. Sighing, he locked himself in his room, hoping he could get away with telling his Mom that he had been in a fight after school.

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The next morning, a bruised and battered Greg mailed his revised letter to Julia Sloan.


	6. Chapter 6

**New chapters! That's what spring break is for. Hopefully I can do another by the end of the week. Thanks for sticking with this through my slow updates, It makes me feel special.**

**Last time I checked, my drivers license didn't say David Shore, so I guess I still don't own House or it's characters. **

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As Greg pushed the door to the house open that evening, he hoped that he wouldn't be in trouble for being late. He had called his mom to tell her not to expect him for dinner as soon as class ended. He could never predict whether his father would actually trust that he had been at the library for five hours, working on a project. If his dad thought it was true, there wouldn't be a problem. If not… Greg shuddered to think of the consequences. Experience told him that they wouldn't be pretty. 

The first thing that Greg registered as he entered the kitchen was his mother seizing him in a hug, crying. His own past experience made him immediately concerned, and he grabbed her by the arms, worry present in his eyes and face.

"Mom, what is it? What's wrong?"

He was surprised to see her smile at him through her tears. She shook her head at him.

"It's wonderful, Greg. Have a look." She lifted an opened envelope off the table. Greg frowned to see The Marine Corps seal emblazoned on the paper.

He scowled as he removed the letter from the envelope and began to read, not at all happy to see the words printed on the page. His parents would clearly expect him to accept, and that was something he couldn't do. So much for holding off telling his parents about John Hopkins. Lost in his conflicting thoughts about John Hopkins and the Marines, he jumped at the touch of a hand on his shoulder.

"Full ride scholarship. Just like your old man." John House said, patting his son on the shoulder.

Greg shook free of the apocalyptic display of affection from his father, speaking without thinking. He might as well just get it over.

"I won't do it."

It was rather startling for Greg to see how quickly his father's demeanor changed. He went from something that quite possibly resembled pride to something that was clearly rage in a matter of seconds. He could feel his deeply imbedded fear of the older man rising in his stomach, panic quickly filling his consciousness. He wanted to be anywhere but that kitchen.

"You won't do what?" John asked, his voice low and dangerous. Blythe's happy tears came to an instant halt as she registered the sudden change in her husband. This did not bode well.

Greg took a deep breath and swallowed his pride. It was now or never.

"I won't join the fucking marines." He declared, spitting the word 'marine' in a way that managed to turn it into an insult.

John's eyes flashed. Greg was somewhat surprised the older man hadn't lunged for him.

"What makes you think that?"

"How about the fact that I'm going to John Hopkins University to study medicine next fall?" There. It was out. His father could kill him now.

"Yeah? How are you going to pay for that? What makes you think your good enough for that?"

"First of all, they offered me a full ride, and I accepted it," Greg yelled, his temper rising. "And what the hell makes me good enough to be a marine and have my ass shot off in the middle of nowhere, but not good enough to become a doctor?"

John hesitated, taken aback. Greg had never yelled at him before, except a month ago after he had hit him for playing the piano. He hadn't thought much of it then, they were hitting each other, but his was completely different. His son wasn't defending himself. He was on the attack, prepared to fight for what he wanted. And John didn't know what to do about it.

"No son of mine is going to be some pansy doctor!"

Greg snorted. "What, I'm only worthy of being your son if I kill people? Those are some great ethics."

"Out! Now!" John yelled, pointing towards the door. Greg just smirked at him holding his ground. His father was losing his nerve. Looking across the room, he realized for the first time that he was taller than John House, and that the man felt threatened by him. It felt good.

Blythe gasped, shocked by the turn of events that were taking place. "John, you can't make him leave! He's not an adult! And he's my son too!"

Both men looked at her confused. They had forgotten she was there. Suddenly, common sense was returning. The two blinked sheepishly.

"Thanks mom. But he's right… I'm leaving as soon as graduation is over. He doesn't want me here; I won't get in his way." He gave his mother a hug, and turned to head for his bedroom. As he stepped out of the kitchen, he threw a comment at his dad over his shoulder. "You stay out of my hair, I'll stay out of yours!"

John and Blythe were left standing in shock.

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Greg was lying on his bed reading when Blythe poked her in his door. Seeing that her son wasn't doing anything important, she walked into the room and sat down next to him. Greg sighed, but put his book aside and sat up.

"Hi mom."

Blythe leaned over and gave her son a hug.

"Greg honey, I think it's wonderful that you want to become a doctor." She smiled at him.

"Thanks mom." Greg said, catching on to what she was trying to do. "But I really am leaving as soon as I've got my diploma."

"Greg honey, you don't have—"

"Yes, mom, I do. We don't get along. We never got along." He sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "I've got it all worked out. I've got a bus ticket, and I'm staying with a friend 'till classes start in fall."

Blythe couldn't stop the tears from running down her face. She felt like she was losing Greg, it was all so sudden.

"Don't worry mom. I've kept in contact with them since I was ten. It'll be okay." Greg smiled, reaching up to wipe away her tears. "I'm not going to be living with a total stranger."

Blythe sighed and nodded miserably. Greg definitely inherited John's determination. She gave her son one last hug and left him alone.

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Greg sighed as he watched her go. He knew it would be hard on her, but he couldn't follow in his dad's footsteps. He was grateful that he didn't have to.

On June 11, he would be starting his new life, courtesy of Julia Sloan.

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**A/N: Interestingly, House's 18th birthday would fall on June 11th, 1977. The day was a Saturday and most graduations are at the beginning of June, it makes it perfectly plausible that he could have turned 18 and graduated on the same day.**

** Please review! **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: School is out, which means updates! Yay for summer break. I cannot believe I spent all my time next semester writing for English 101. I'd rather have been writing angsty House stories.**

**This chapter is kinda short, mostly filler, but it'll move the story along. And now you can expect more frequent updates.**

**Still don't own House.If I did, i wouldn't be dying over the last two eps.**

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Julia knew him immediately when he stepped off the bus. Gregory House still had the bluest eyes she had ever seen. It almost seemed strange, seeing him for the first time in nearly eight years, but she knew him as well as anyone she had seen every day for that long.

Julia had been happy to hear that Greg had been offered a full ride to John Hopkins. When she received his letter telling of his acceptance, she hadn't hesitated to offer to rent out her extra room to him. In their correspondence, she had heard enough about House Senior to guess that he wouldn't be happy with his sons career choice. It was sad that it needed to be done, but after everything Greg had put up with, she was happy to help him get away from his dad and start his life.

She stood quietly to one side and watched him collect his luggage before she approached him.

"Greg?"

The young man turned, and his face lit up with a smile. "Miss Sloan!"

Julia laughed. "I'm not your teacher anymore, you don't have to call me that."

"Sure." Greg said. He knew that he wouldn't call her Julia at all out of respect. "I'll try and remember that."

Julia chuckled and shook her head. Greg had been a charming ten year old, and he was a charming teenager. "C'mon. Let's get home."

Greg nodded and picked up his suitcases. Julia led the way to the car.

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Julia only owned a one story home, but it was bright and well kept. Flower gardens in the front yard gave the house a happy, welcoming look. Julia led Greg inside and motioned for him to set his thing down so she could give him a tour. Greg nodded and set his suitcases next to the door, prepared to come back for them in a few minutes.

"Here's the den," Julia explained, leading him into a room off the front hall. "TV is in here, help yourself to any of the books."

Greg took a moment to look around the room, and was surprised to see multiple shelves filled with books of varying age. Upon closer inspection of the titles, he realized what the hundreds of books were about. "They're all med texts."

Julia smiled and nodded. "They were my dad's. He was an oncologist, but he still felt he should do his best to learn about other areas of medicine. He died of a heart attack a couple of years ago."

Greg smiled. He had no problem with spending hours in here, reading. Seeing Julia exiting the room, he quickly followed, to find her just waiting down the hall.

"Kitchen's in here, dining room just through there," Julia pointed through the room to another door. Moving on she paused at another door. "Bathroom is here. My room is across the hall, and yours is at the end of the hall."

Greg nodded his understanding and followed her to his room. It had two windows looking out to the front and back yards, and a reasonably sized closet. An empty bookshelf stood under the front window, and along the same wall as the door was a dresser. His bed was under the back window.

"You can rearrange it if you want." Julia suggested.

Greg shook his head."No, it's fine the way it is." He took one last look around and then turned to head back to the front door. "I'm gonna get my stuff."



Julia nodded. "In that case, I'm going to start cooking dinner. Spaghetti okay with you?"

Greg smiled. "Spaghetti is fine, thanks."

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After unpacking Greg lay on his bed relaxing. He couldn't believe he was finally there. No more of his dad dictating everything he ever did. It was easily the best birthday he'd had since his father was in Vietnam. He would rent his room from Julia for two and a half months, and then he'd be moving into the dorms at John Hopkins. In the meantime, he was free to do as he pleased.

Upon hearing a call from Julia down the hall, Greg rose and stuck his head out the door. Greeted by the scent of food, he figured dinner must be ready and allowed his nose to lead him in the direction of the kitchen.

"There you are." Julia acknowledged as he walked into the room. "I was about to holler again."

"I got lost." Greg joked. "It's confusing, so many twists and turns…"

"Very funny." Julia stated, picking up a plate of garlic bread. "Grab that pan of Spaghetti, will you?"

Greg picked up the spaghetti and followed Julia to the dining room. They sat on opposite sides of the table and served themselves.

Over the course of dinner, Greg told Julia about the classes he was taking fall semester. He wasn't sure what kind of doctor he wanted to become, but Julia was quick to ease his nerves about that.

"You've got plenty of time to decide on a specialty." She reminded him. "You've got four years of pre-med ahead of you."



"That's true."

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After dinner, Greg called his mom, as promised.

"Yeah mom, I made it okay. Everything's good." He spoke calmingly. He suspected by her voice that she had been since his graduation ceremony that morning.

"I'll take care of myself mom. Yes, I promise. Everything's going to be fine." For the first time in his life, Greg actually felt that statement was true.

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**That's it. Let me know you're all still out there, k?**


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